


If wishes were kisses (we’d never leave my bed)

by tsumego



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Fluff, Kissing Booths, M/M, Puppies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-03
Updated: 2016-07-03
Packaged: 2018-07-14 23:13:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7194806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsumego/pseuds/tsumego
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sidney knew that turning an entire team of hockey players loose at a fairgrounds for a day of team building and fan engagement was asking for trouble. Too bad no one asked him about his opinion on the matter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If wishes were kisses (we’d never leave my bed)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Batik](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Batik/gifts).



> Batik, I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Many thanks to all those who inspired, hand-held and beta'd, I never would have ended up in this mess without you! Particular thanks go to itsacoup,MapleMermaid and Plu <3

"What do you mean you lost Geno!? He's supposed to be doing a signing in 15 minutes!"

Sid cannot believe this is his life. He's generally happy (or at the very least tolerant) to do events, but this one is trying his last nerve. He knew this was going to happen the minute they had arrived at the fair. Well, maybe not “Geno, who needs to be here now, was last sighted feeding ducks an hour ago and no one has seen him since” but... something along these lines. Letting half a team of hockey players loose to roam a small town fair without supervision was asking for problems. In fact, Sid has noticed that there is a suspicious lack of French-Canadians in the clustered teammates. That was a mischief to be dealt with at a future date. Hopefully by someone else.

“His phone’s off, we already tried calling him. It goes straight to voicemail.” Kuni nudges Olli forward. Olli looks like nothing so much as a very guilty duckling - eyes tight at the edge, lips pursed, and entire body slumped, even his hair is drooping a bit from the humid heat of August in Pennsylvania.

“I know the plan was to stay in groups but I got hungry and we’d been by the pond for like, an hour and G told me that I could just come back! By the time I waited through the lines and got back, he was gone!” Olli’s words trip over each other until he abruptly falls silent, obviously waiting for Sid to render judgement on his failure at the buddy system.

Kuni knows just how to handle him, dammit. Sid feels himself refocusing on dealing with the problem automatically. He reaches out and grabs Olli’s shoulder. “Hey, hey - it’s not on you. Geno’s an adult - you’re not responsible for him wandering off. Now,” he looks around, “is everyone _else’s_ phone charged? We’ve got fifteen minutes until his slot. Dales, Phil, you’re up now so head out to take over shift. The rest of us will split up the fair and go area by area - first person to find him should text the group.”

After he looks and sees nods of agreement all around, the chaos resolves into productive energy now that direction had been given. Sid waits to make sure everyone had figured out where their allotted area is before heading out on his own for the last section of the Fair - the smaller booths of charity organizations. Geno wasn’t likely to be there, but neither were many fairgoers.

 

The hot, slightly-humid air of late-August Pennsylvanian summer was objectively not that comfortable, but it welcomed him every year at the beginning of a new year of Penguins hockey, and Sid enjoyed the feeling of deep contentment it triggered every time he had a moment to step back and breathe.

Last year had been everything he could have wanted for himself and for the team, coming back from a hard start to a glorious cup run culminating in actually winning the cup, like the best kind of fairytail. It’s been all summer and Sid is still astounded every time it sinks in that this is real life. Every year he’s believed in the team and wanted and worked for the cup, but wanting and working hadn’t been enough. Having Phil and all of the young guys and new trades had been a strange gasp of relief - possibly the first time in his career that the team’s fate hadn’t rested on his and Geno’s combined shoulders.

The last time they won they were so young. Their entire careers had stretched out in front of them like endless possibilities - two cup finals in under five years together, surely another cup or three would to follow. Nothing in hockey or life is guaranteed, the long years of struggle and injury were nothing like they dreamed. And yet, Sid can’t help but feel nostalgically grateful for all of it, even the hard times. Ten years together. Longer than some got in the NHL at all, much less on the same team, both of them.

Sid wanders down the aisle of booths, lost in his thoughts. All of them are simple affairs, most just having a sign and a volunteer with some handouts. Other than the occasional nod, it leaves him plenty of space to reflect.

He doesn’t regret much, nothing big, just the little choices like wishing he’d called sooner, been kinder that one time or had listened to the trainers after that first concussion, but looking back there’s only one choice he might take back… that moment after they won the first time, both of them drinking from the cup.

Their eyes had met, both of them filled up with giddiness and love for the world, everything perfect in that moment. Sid had wanted to kiss Geno, and after all these years he’s pretty sure that right then Geno wanted to kiss him right back. He’d seen Geno in the locker rooms, on the ice and known how good he looked - long and lean and funny and so very earnestly kind.

He’d wanted, but he’d thought to their future, how either could be traded heedless of their feelings, how if they weren’t traded, no matter what happened between them, they would have to stay, and he had closed his eyes and swallowed it down. Now, more than five years down the road, they’ve grown up and into their team together and he knows that, whatever they do together, it would be amazing. No matter how things go, Sid-and-Geno would still be solid. His fears at the time were sensible, but he knows now that they were nothing to worry about. Over the years, both of them have dated women and men, but there’s never been a chance like that one since. Looking back, Sid wishes he could know what would have happened, because he thinks they would have been great. Now he’s older and another Cup won, and he’s not in a serious relationship, and he’s feeling the ache of years in his joints and the ache for something steady and solid in his heart. He wants-

“Sid, how many kisses you want?”

“WHAT!?” Sid cringes internally at the sound of his voice cracking, even as he spins around. It’s not the worst thing he could have said, since “All of them” was the second response on his tongue, and he would very much like to know where the _fuck_ this came from.

The first thing that greets him is a hangdog expression, sleepy good natured eyes, and a long tongue flopped out and panting from the smugly content mouth of huge pitbull. Sid looks up to see Geno, expression hilariously similar, proffering the pup in his direction.

“Pitbull kisses, Sid! How many you want from Molly?” The dog’s tongue snakes out and lovingly slobbers all over Sid’s face. The hot humid doggy breath somehow makes the summer heat about ten times worse for those few moments, even as he wipes his face off, trying to squint through his fingers and figure out where Geno has somehow acquired a dog at the fair.

Oh. No, it is so much worse than just one dog. It is an entire booth of dogs, every single last one a pitbull. The large sign hanging in front of the booth reads “KISSING BOOTH” in bold lettering.

 

“Geno, I -- what? Whose booth is this and where are they? What?” Sid doesn’t want to know, but he also very much needs to know what is going on here.

Geno sets the puppy down with the rest of the dogs and gestures broadly, face split with unrestrained glee. “Doggy kissing booth, Sid! You buy kisses, dogs get good homes, everyone happy! Great idea, maybe we have penguin kissing booth? Birds at my party, very cute, like kisses!”

Over Sid’s dead body. There will be no kissing of seabirds, particularly ones that might give people ideas about kissing _him._

“Uh, I think penguins already have home in zoos, but G- that doesn’t explain why _you’re_ running this booth...especially when you’re supposed to be at _our_ booth in,” he checks his phone, “ten minutes.”

“No! Have plenty of time - alarm didn’t go off yet!”

Sid holds up his phone screen, time displayed accusingly. Geno curses and fumbles for his phone, rooting through his pockets until his outraged expression melts into guilt, “Fuck, phone battery dead. Sorry Sid, didn’t mean to make problem for everyone.”

“Don’t worry about it G, it happens. Just glad I found you - we still have plenty of time to make it before the signing starts. Just don’t be late to any hockey, or else you’ll really be in trouble.” Sid sends off a text letting the team know that their stray has been located and they can call off the search.

If anything, Geno somehow manages to look even guiltier. “Little bit of a problem, Sid. Woman who run booth is helping lost boy find his parents and I’m watch booth for her! Can’t leave puppies on their own!”

“Why would she leave them with you… how long have you been here?”

“Long time - I’m buy all of the doggy kisses!” Geno’s expression of guilt melts in the face of his clear pride in his cleverness. “Ask her, how much for five minutes with all of them, but other people waiting - so say, I’m buy all doggy kisses for the day, and I’m give away to everyone!”

If Sid had the imagination to dream up the most Geno thing to happen at a country fair, this is _exactly_ what he would have pictured. Except maybe with something larger and predatory, like wolves.

Which, speaking of wolves, Sid and Geno are both scheduled to be signing in… seven minutes now. Disappointed fans aside, there is NO way Sid is going to go it alone. It’s been a long day, he’s hot, tired, and media training only goes so far when none of the fair foods had really appealed to him (so much fried grease, why?) so he’s more than a little cranky from hunger.

Geno is supposed to have his back here. He is supposed to make jokes so that everything isn’t nearly so draining and redirect the overly earnest fans that Sid just can’t handle but Geno’s exuberance just works perfectly with. Sid needs him right there next to him, smiling his big, bright smile and soaking up the attention.

A good leader handles situations and makes decisions, but they also know when to call in reinforcements. Sid sighs and says, “Hold on, G.”

He steps back, snaps a picture of G, arms cuddled around the smallest puppy, making sure to include the sign, and sends it to the group chat with the caption “G took over a booth and owner is gone. Need to get to signing. Suggestions???”

The first twenty replies are spectacularly unhelpful, evenly split between laughter and entirely outrageous suggestions. Sid is not going to mention the suggestion that Geno “adopt em all and beat ovi for most dogs, thats a nhl award rite” from Sheary and quite frankly he’s not sure he’s reading Tanger’s French right because what do chickens have to do with anything?

The next suggestion is almost workable, thank you Beau. Bringing the dogs to the Penguins booth wouldn’t be as simple as it sounds, but it would solve a lot of their problems. Sid floats the idea to Geno.

In the midst of debating logistics and water bowls and arguments that they “can’t just take booth away, what if Evelyn comes back, can’t find her dogs”, Rusty shows up and tosses a portable battery charger to Geno.

“Did you come to help move the dogs?” Sid asks, confused.

“What? Why would I do that - I’m supposed to scout the area so that everyone can start setting up the booth for more people!”

Sid has the faintest sensation of vertigo, as if the world is moving in an unexpected direction beneath his feet, before a jovial punch to the arm startles him. “Sid! Ready to give out some top-quality smooches for _charity_?“ Flower leered good-naturedly at him, making over-the-top kissylips from far too close a distance for comfort.

For the first time ever, Sid wishes he didn’t know this team as well as he does. He has a fatalistic feeling that he knows what happened since he last looked at the chat: “bring the kissing booth to their booth” turned into “bring their booth to the kissing booth, it’s easier to move” and then someone had the bright idea that they’d make more money for charity by turning it into Geno’s suggested penguins kissing booth… only this one with a capital P. He never should have looked away from his phone. No need to ask, he’ll check the history to find out who is responsible for this madness and there will be captainly pranking hell to pay. For now, “It’s too late to stop this?” he confirms.

“Far, far too late, _mon ami_. Sit back and accept your fate.” Flower’s glee at Sid’s despair lights up his narrow face into something wholly devilish. Goalies make terrible, evil friends that are not to be trusted.

G ambles over from where he was conversing with Rusty, yet another dog cradled in his long arms, tail draped over his forearms.

“Sid hear about change? Only cheek kisses if donate extra, but know how Sid feel about too close...” Geno trails off, mouth set in a concerned frown. Sid appreciates the check-in, Geno knows him well. He’s not happy about the situation, but he trusts their teammates not to set up something he completely hates. Knowing that it’s only cheek kisses goes a long way to reassure him on that front. They could have come up with much worse and still had something Sid could live with.

“It’s not so bad. Anyways I bet everyone would rather get a kiss from a puppy that cute than from some hockey player - especially after seeing our beards last year,” Sid says with wry humour.

“Sid! Not underestimate - everyone want to kiss you!” Geno’s face is earnest and his eyes are wild, a many-year veteran of the insanity that is their combined mob of hockey fans.

Sid knows he means all of the fans, but the phrasing… Sid can hear Flower muffling snickers at his shoulder. _Goddammit Geno._ Sid is not looking forward to the next time he goes out for drinks with Flower. Flower has been gently lobbying for Sid to “get married already” for years so that he can throw a bachelor party for him. Whenever Sid has been pointed out that he was either not dating or not that serious at the current time, Flower’s back-up solution of choice has always been to just marry Geno.

“Yeah Sid, better watch out, what if the whole Fair shows up for kisses and your massive lips fall off?”

“Fuck off, Flower, don’t you have something useful to do?” Sid’s officially done with this conversation, “Geno, come help me with the dogs.”

 

Soon enough most of the team arrives, each toting their respective piece of booth or equipment. They gather around the new combined booth location, bickering over how the pieces go back together. Sid didn’t want this happening in the first place, but at the very least they could be less loud and chaotic. He can feel his jaw clenching as everything rubs him the wrong way, and he reaches up to rub the gathering headache out of his temples before straightening up and preparing to wade into the fray. As he steps forward, Geno catches him lightly at the elbow and tugs him slightly away from the center of activity.

“What.” Sid snaps, inexplicably annoyed by everything. In his swiftly-darkening mood, he wants get this over with as quickly as possible.

“Sid, look angry, frown at everyone. Eat anything at fair?” Geno enquires, low and casual. Nothing too concerned or pushy, which would just get Sid’s back up worse. He pauses, and smiles slyly, “Not yourself when you’re hungry.”

American advertising has so much to answer for, but… but he’s not wrong, dammit. Sid forces himself to mentally step back and set aside his irritation, now that he’s realized the cause is definitely the fact that he hasn’t eaten since breakfast. “That bad, huh?”

“So bad Sid, look like trying to light booth on fire with brain.”

“You know fair food is basically everything I hate - even the ice cream is fried or just…” Sid trails off, making a queasy face just thinking of the sheer unappetizing horror of a fair hot dog, “ick.”

“Didn’t bring anything? Not like you to forget.” Geno’s surprise is entirely warranted - Sid’s normally on the other side of this discussion.

“Had a call that ran late this morning that threw my routine out of whack and I ended up rushing. I forgot I hadn’t restocked my back-up stuff in my supplies bag for the new season yet.” It’s a reason, but there’s really no excuse. Nothing to be done for it now. “I’ll just suck it up and find something once we get a break.”

Geno’s frown deepens, disapproving. “No one gonna be alive if you wait, Sid. Here, which one you want?”

Geno is holding out a fistful of granola bars, all different flavors but the same brand, and Sid feels a deep fondness when he realizes with some surprise that they’re all his preferred flavors. He looks up into Geno’s face, soft and patient and caring, if still faintly judgemental. The only reason for Geno to have these is for Sid - no one else on the team will touch the brand - and Sid has no way of knowing how often he carries them since he’s never forgotten before.

“Thanks,” he says softly, weighty with the sincerity of his affection.

Soon enough their combined booth is set up and fans of both pitbulls and Penguins queue up for their kisses. To Sid’s dismay, the slightly out-of-the-way location does nothing to deter the crowds and their neighbors, far from minding the mess and noise, are delighted by the greater traffic to their neglected corner of the fair.

The hour goes by in a rush, giving cheek, forehead, and hand kisses, occasionally interrupted by Geno popping up in front of Sid and holding up a slobbery, delighted dog who thoroughly licks his face in unrestrained puppy love. Sid’s exasperated glares don’t even give him pause - glares that are probably too good-humored since he can feel an irrepressible smile surfacing even as he narrows his eyes.

One of the men in the front of the line, farmer-tanned and grinning as he waits while his much-loved jersey is signed, heckles jokingly, “Hey, what’s this? Giving out free merchandise? He has to pay, just like the rest of us!”

Geno doesn’t miss a beat, slings his arm around Sid, hand gripping his upper arm, altogether too hot for the late-afternoon sun and still exactly what he wants. “Sid not have to pay, hockey too good, best captain. I get to watch him on ice, he always stay hot, but hot off the ice too. He get all kisses, love he wants, I’m get him them, start with puppy kisses!”

Sid twists his head sideways to glance up at Geno, but can’t quite catch his expression. There’s something in his voice… to everyone else he probably sounds like he’s joking, but Sid recognizes that tone from after the Olympics or when Geno is talking about some of Russia’s tenser politics. He may be being funny, but the things he’s saying are absolutely the truth, the kind that hurts too much to say any way but lightly.

Sid wants to say something and follow up to find out if… if there might be something there, but the noise of the waiting line reminds him that this really isn’t the time or place. He grins, rolls his eyes and finishes up signing. There will be time later to find an excuse to get Geno alone.

 

It isn’t until that evening that Sid came up with a good plan, and it works perfectly. Sid had put forth the idea of going stargazing with the hopes that maybe he could find some way to bring up the moment from earlier. Geno had agreed eagerly, hardly waiting for Sid to finish asking, just nodded when Sid had said to meet him at the edge of the field temporarily standing in for a parking lot.

Now they amble through the fields around the fair, ostensibly searching for a dark enough place away from the lights of the fair so that they can see the stars. It’s quiet but not silent, crickets and cicadas filling the night. There’s a sense of quiet potential in the air, shoulders and arms bumping as they swing with their strides, hands brushing once, twice. His fingers flex, on the verge of tucking them into his pockets safe and out of the way, but they’re on the edge of the dark spaces now. He may be bumping into Geno, but Geno is bumping into him too, and not moving away after. It’s enough to give Sid confidence. After last season, after today, Sid is ready to wipe away regrets with action.

The next time their hands brush, he lets them catch, wrapping his fingers all the way around Geno’s surprisingly skinny wrist and sliding down into an awkward, loose hold. He doesn’t have any time to worry. Geno’s fingers instantly tighten, re-adjusting into something more natural.

“Sid…” Geno breathes out, sounding like he wants to ask.

“Oh, hey, over there would probably great for star-gazing, don’t you think?” Sid asks, superficially bright and pointing in a random direction. If even he can hear the edge to his voice, there isn’t a chance Geno missed it. Belatedly, Sid realizes that he's accidentally pointed to a cluster of trees: the worst possible place if he was actually thinking about star-gazing, even if they are outside of the pool of lights around the gravel parking lot. Without waiting for a reply he strides off towards their shelter, towing Geno complacently behind him. He just wants a minute to feel Geno’s hand in his, hot and sweaty even in the cooler evening air. Just a minute to have this, and then the semblance of privacy when they talk, that’s all he’s asking for.

“Okay, Sid. Okay.”

As they approach the trees, Sid feels the rising tension in himself of hope and desire, as he tries to think of what to do, say, feel. It doesn’t matter. Every thought in his mind vanishes as they break through the low bushes and enter the dark space under the branches. The clearing is entirely filled with fireflies on every surface: the grass, the bushes, the trees, the small pond at their feet, hidden until now.

Sid feels his breath catch, hears Geno gasp at his side. The infinite constellations of tiny yellow lights, blinking independently in the deep darkness feel like standing in a private galaxy in outer space. The surprise of finding this beauty, unlooked for and so small, some tiny miracle for the two of them, fills Sid with that same buzzing giddiness of potential from their shared moment with the cup. He wants to share so many moments with Geno, both magical and mundane.

He turns towards Geno and looks up, and Geno is looking back at him in shared awed wonder. Even as he watches, Geno brings his free hand up to cradle the side of his face, hand gentle and careful as anything, barely making contact. Tilting his head into it, Sid brings his hand up to cup Geno’s hand, pressing so that he can feel the warmth on his cooled cheek. They step into each other and their clasped hands drop free as Sid reaches up to slide his hand up into the short soft hairs at the base of Geno’s neck, trusting that it really could be as simple as this. Sid holds Geno’s gaze in the gloom and feels Geno’s newly-freed hand settle on his back.

Sid feels filled up with gratefulness that he can have this, a single perfect moment that took so many years. He holds Geno’s hand and turns his head to brush a kiss into Geno’s palm.

“Thank you,” he murmurs.

“Why thank you?”

“For being you, for being here with me, for everything.” Sid leans up to press a gentle kiss to Geno’s mouth. As he starts to drop back to his heels, Geno’s hand on his back tightens to support him and keep their mouths close. Geno kisses him once, light, and then again with passion. When Sid finally drops from his tiptoes, his calves are trembling and his breath pants out into the night air. Even afterwards they stay close, arms wrapped around each other and enjoying the closeness. Sid feels Geno’s chest rise and fall where his cheek is pressed against it - warm and alive and filled with the flutter of a pounding heart.

Eventually, Geno stirs in his arms and Sid loosens his grip to allow him to step back, just far enough to meet his eyes again. Geno is glowing in the faint light of the fireflies, his face so loving that Sid can hardly handle it. His mouth quirks and he smiles softly. “Sid, how much for all of your kisses? I’m buy and keep them all.”

Sid reads the implied question and it dispels the faint wisps of uncertainty - they hadn’t discussed much and it’s one thing for Sid to think they’re on the same page and quite another to know that they are. Later, they can discuss the practical details of what dating will mean for them. For the moment, Sid is content to play along. He pretends to think, and then smirks gently, “Hmmmm… I don’t know if you can afford them…. What if we trade? I’ll give you all of mine, if you give me all of yours.”

Geno chuckles delightedly. “They’re already yours, so easy trade for me.”

Sid gives in and laughs with him, so glad that he can’t hold it in. This, this is what he wants, forever, silly jokes and all. He grins up at Geno, knowing it’s dorky as hell and not caring a bit. “It's a very important deal for both of us, so we’d better seal it with a kiss.”

**Author's Note:**

> A/N stole a line from a vienna teng song, bonus points if you find it, massive lies about the timeline and if they would be left on their own for kissing booths. also, the lack of mosquitos near a body of water in the summer. [[Original source of image]](https://www.facebook.com/peaceloveandpitbulls/photos/pb.169212771399.-2207520000.1465874668./10153375027186400/?type=3&theater)


End file.
